Welcome to the Games
by JohnlockedTARDIS
Summary: The TARDIS has disappeared. The Doctor is missing. There's no way to escape; they just have to hope that this time the odds will be ever in their favor. Triple crossover, which is why it's categorized as regular.
1. Prologue

**Hi there! Okay, so this is a crossover of Sherlock/Doctor Who/Hunger Games, therefore I couldn't put it in the crossover section. So don't ask me about it. I'll probably update weekly, if not sooner. I'll try to get my other story updated for those of who are reading it, too. There will be some eventual slash, and the rating might go up because of violence and maybe future smut. Don't like, don't read.**

**Disclaimer: Of course I don't own it. You must be as stupid as Anderson if you think I make money off of this.**

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry." John looked at Sherlock, the other's pain only reflected in John's eyes for a mere second before they became hardened and emotionless. Desperately, Sherlock searched John's eyes for a trace of guilt, sadness, of his old friend, the ex-army doctor that he had grown so fond of. He was never really able to read John like he could read other people. A few simple deductions at best. But now, as their eyes met for what might be the final time, he found that he could read John, like an open book.<p>

And it scared him.

For he saw nothing.

"John…" It was barely loud at all, hardly even a whisper. But it was so quiet, it didn't matter; Sherlock could have yelled it. A million whispers rebounded off the cavernous walls, reminding both of them what life used to be like.

John looked away, closing his eyes. Maybe that would make it all end. From his mind, he saw flashes of Afghanistan, of 221B, of everyone they left behind. God, it had seemed all so long ago…Composing himself, he turned back to Sherlock, his eyes cold and icy. He had fought in the war before, hadn't he? He knew there were risks and stakes and casualties. This shouldn't be any different.

One last time, he met the ever-changing eyes of his former flatmate, his former alliance, his former friend. He shook his head bitterly. That was all in the past. This was now.

There would be time to grieve later.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock." He turned away, not wanting to see the look on the other's face, which was probably filled with the pain of betrayal, the silence of finality.

The gunshot was loud, filling the cavern with distant echoes, like an army finally retreating. As he walked out, John heard the distant sound of his grin victory through the pounding in his ears.

"Congratulations to the winner of the 38th Hunger Games, John Watson!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Like it? Hate it? The review box is hungry!<strong>


	2. Chapter 1

**AN: So this chapter's a bit short, they probably all will be. But in addition, there'll be a bunch of chapters and weekly updates. As always, I don't and most likely will never own Sherlock (except on DVD). Enjoy, my lovelies!**

* * *

><p>"So, will you come?"<p>

"Of course, Doctor."

John heard muffled voices through the sheet comforter, yawning blearily. He had finally been granted the privelege of a nap after a particularly tiresome case of a total of three days (without sleeping and occasional snack and bathroom breaks) had been solved. He tore out of his warm cocoon, stretching his limbs and yawning again, shaking his head to rid it of fatigue.

He got up slowly, opening the door from his bedroom and making his way slowly towards the living room. He squinted as the bright light of the fire hit him, putting his hand protectively over his eyes, still walking. "Hey, Sherlock, you want a c-" John was cut off as he walked directly into what seemed to be a wall made of wood. _A door, maybe? _he thought, rubbing his sore head from the ground. _But what would a door be doing in the middle of the flat? Then again, _John reminded himself, _I live in a flat with the same man who once kept a severed head in the fridge._

Standing slowly, John's eyes came into focus. He was wrong; it hadn't been a door after all (or maybe it was). It was the side of what looked like a police box from the sixties. He walked around it, his eyes trailing over the windows and the sign on the front that read _Police Telephone, Free For the Use of Public. Advice and Assistance Attainable Immediately. Officers and Cars Respond to All Calls. Pull to Open._

He turned around to see Sherlock already sipping tea, on the sofa watching John's observations. "Afternoon, John. You slept quite a while." John's eyes moved to the man sitting beside Sherlock, looking a bit out of place with a red fez upon his head and a bowtie to match. "Well, aren't you going to introduce us?" John asked. He decided to, once again, trust Sherlock's decision on things. If he wasn't firing at the stranger, he couldn't be all that bad. Maybe.

"Oh. John, this is the Doctor." The Doctor waved a hand in recognition, grinning at John. "Hello there, Sleeping Beauty."

"Doctor who?"

"Just the Doctor, the one and only, and the best." The Doctor smiled proudly. John shrugged (he was still rather tired and really didn't care to question anything at the moment). He turned back to Sherlock, his eyes still holding a question. "Are you going to tell me why there's a blue box in the middle of our flat?"

Sherlock just nodded boredly towards the Doctor. "His."

John turned back to the Doctor, waiting for an explanation. "Oh, yes. That's my spaceship, called the TARDIS, which stands for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. I had nowhere else to park it, sorry." John blinked. "A spaceship," he repeated, not sure if the man was joking or not. The Doctor nodded, waving him towards it. "Go on, then, have a look." John looked glanced at Sherlock, who nodded.

John stepped forward, pushing open the door and watching it swing back. His eyes widened as he peered inside the TARDIS, stepping outside and inside of it quickly, looking as if he didn't believe what he was seeing. "But it's-"

"-Bigger on the inside," The Doctor and Sherlock finished. Sherlock smirked at John's amazement, remembering the first time he had stepped inside the TARDIS. It had been one of the few times he had been completely clueless. John stepped further inside, stepping slowly towards the console. He stared wonderingly at all the buttons and levers, glancing back towards the Doctor constantly. "Amazing," he breathed.

Sherlock couldn't help but feel a small, unexplained annoyed pang in his stomach as John muttered admiration for the TARDIS under his breath. He didn't realize that it might have been because it was the same tone that John usually used for him and his work.

John reached out a hesitant hand to touch the console, pulling back at the last minute. He knew, even in his sleep-tainted state, that there were some things better left alone. _For now, at least, _he thought, a childish excitement bubbling inside of him. At last, he stepped outside the TARDIS, his hand lingering on the door. "That right there," he said, starting to grin like an idiot, "is absolutely fantastic. Brilliant," he laughed, walking towards the other two, the slight fatigue no longer evident and replaced by his enthusiasm.

Another annoyed pang.

Sherlock shook his head mentally. _Stop it, _he told himself firmly. _This is the TARDIS, anyone would be excited. Anyway, John's compliments aren't strictly made for you._ He sighed inaudibly as he thought this. Hopefully John wouldn't notice.

"So, Doctor, what are you doing here?" John asked curiously.

"I need a bit of help - from the both of you." The Doctor looked from one to the other, his voice adopting a more serious tone. He paused, letting the tension hang in the air for a moment before breaking out into a wide split grin. "Just kidding!" Sherlock looked at the Doctor, an eyebrow raised. "But I thought you said that there was a small Dalek fleet ship that landed near Cardiff."

"Rule number 1: The Doctor lies." Sherlock rolled his eyes though smiled slightly. He had forgotten how strange the Doctor could be sometimes.

John watched the two, feeling a sharp jab in his side as he saw the corners of Sherlock's mouth lift. It was just a small smile, but a real one nonetheless.

_I thought I was the only who made him smile like that. _

John scolded himself, annoyed at how much he sounded like a stupid, love-struck, jealous teenage girl. He was only three of four of those things, after all.

Sherlock turned to John, looking him up and down. "Go change, John. I expect we'll be leaving in a bit." John went to his room without another question, anticipation quickly replacing the sharp jealousy. He looked around his room, his mind racing and his pulse quickening. "What to bring, what to bring," he muttered, eyes darting around the room. At random, he grabbed a few jumpers and some pairs of jeans, continuing like this for everything else, throwing them hurriedly into a small suitcase. He threw on one of said jumpers, his favorite, the one with the black and white stripes. He paused for a second before stuffing his laptop into his bag, too. Lugging his suitcase out of the room, he all but ran into the sitting room (careful to avoid running into the TARDIS again).

He was met with the sight of the Doctor and Sherlock leaning closer than they had been before, talking in rushed voices as if they had only a limited amount of time to talk. They went back to their original positions with a slight, barely noticeable guilty jump as John walked in. He felt a brief flash of hurt, along with another pang of jealousy as he saw them jump. _It's probably nothing, _John reassured himself. He wasn't sure if he really believed what he said. "Ready," he said, putting a smile on his face.

The Doctor sprang up from his seat, clapping his hands and rubbing them together, sharing John's anticipation. "Good! Follow me, boys." He walked into the TARDIS, John and Sherlock following close behind. John set his suitcase down by the side of the handrails, taking a seat next to Sherlock, who was sprawled across one of the car seats attached. "So, where are we going, Doctor?" Sherlock sat a little straighter as he asked this, becoming more attentive. He found out a long time ago that the Doctor was one of the few people where he actually needed to pay attention with. "I want to take you and John to Barcelona first."

"Barcelona?" Sherlock could hear the faint disappointment in John's voice. He had probably been hoping for somewhere off Earth. "The planet Barcelona, not the city." The Doctor corrected himself, also hearing the disappointment. "Great place, you'll love it." Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to remember if he had been there before. "Doctor, isn't that the planet where the dogs have no noses?"

"Wait, the dogs have no -" John was cut off as the TARDIS jolted and rocked dangerously at an increasing speed, knocking him into Sherlock and Sherlock on the floor. Luckily for the Doctor, he had managed to grab hold of one of the handrails and stayed upright. The crashing continued for about thirty more seconds before the TARDIS set itself upright again at an abrupt stop. John, Sherlock, and the Doctor were thrown to the opposite end of the TARDIS, all of them groaning from new bruises that were sure to form.

"John." Sherlock's voice came from beneath John, who was splayed across him. John jumped up, a few blossoms of pink lightly tinging his cheeks. "Sorry," he muttered as Sherlock got up, wincing as he felt his side. Sherlock merely waved it off and walked up to the door, his hand on the handle. "Wait!" The Doctor got up, scrambling towards the door to prevent Sherlock from opening it. He got in front of the door and blocked it with his arms. "We might have landed in the wrong spot. She usually isn't this rough with travel," he said, looking up with worry in his eyes. John raised his eyebrows. "The TARDIS, is it broken?" The Doctor shook his head, looking around quickly. "Shouldn't be." He walked briskly over to the viewing screen, checking the oxygen levels. "Okay, it should be safe to go outside."

Sherlock opened the door, almost immediately throwing a hand over his eyes to shield them from the brightness that greeted them. John put his hand over his eyes before stepping out, squinting into the distance. "Looks like a forest," he said, once his eyes had adjusted. "So far, so obvious," Sherlock muttered, rolling his eyes. John rolled his eyes in turn, turning back to the TARDIS and looking at the Doctor. "C'mon, then," he said, waving the Doctor out. The Doctor looked up from the database and strolled out of the TARDIS, looking around. He stepped a little bit out of the trees, stepping back as he heard the distant sound of a helicopter, its wind blowing through the trees and making the leaves rustle.

"Back into the TARDIS. Now." The Doctor took both of them by the shoulders and started to guide them towards the police box. "Doctor, what's going on?" Sherlock asked, his voice setting on an uncharacteristically worried tone. "Doctor."

The Doctor rushed ahead and pulled past the branches that had hidden the TARDIS. "Doctor!" Sherlock called, his voice growing sharper. "Doctor, what's - oh." Sherlock had pulled back the branches, John following closely behind, the same worry reflected on his face. The Doctor's back was to them, his hands flexing nervously before falling limp to his side. Slowly, he turned around and faced the other two, the look on his face a mix of fear, wonder, and disbelief.

"The TARDIS is gone."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sooo? Like it? Hate it? My apologies if there was any OOCness from Sherlock and John during the beginning bit, but well, you know. Please review, I honestly love to hear your feedback :)<strong>


End file.
